His First Kill
by ashangel101010
Summary: Companion to "Time to Die" story. Nothing is more innocent than a child petting a unicorn.


His First Kill

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Suggested Theme:

Main Theme- A Sister's Story by Susumu Hirasawa

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When Helia is born, a Treant dies. He was an ancient warrior that turned himself into a tree, like what all Treants did, but he was alone. Almost all the Treants are rooted at Linphea College, except for the peculiar one. The peculiar Treant was rooted in Lulia. When the Great Realm Fire razed Lulia, the Treant was not destroyed or damaged like the Black Willow, rather its brown bark became almost darkness-purple in color and its dark-green leaves became ashen. After that incident, many believed the Treant to be the most powerful of its kind and that it would outlive even the magical universe itself.

Helia was born under the night of a perfect moon. On Linphea, a perfect moon is when, supposedly, the moon sucks out the magic stored in the soil as payment for bringing in the tides. Through this symbiotic feeding, the moon uses its acquired magic to beautify itself to match the beauty of Linphea. For one night, the moon is free of its craters and cracks; it becomes like a luminescent disk of freshly-made light.

Children born under a perfect moon are typically destined for greatness. His birth on the night of a perfect moon should've been a cause for great celebration. And it is for almost an hour after his birth. His father and mother are tickled pink by the auspicious timing of their first and only child's birth; they are a fairly superstitious lot, even amongst their own respective families. They truly believe that nothing, not even a curse from the Ancestral Witches, can dampen their joy.

Saladin comes to visit his newborn grandson with a heavy heart. He has just come from watching the peculiar Treant die. Before its death, he felt a disturbance in the magic on Linphea like someone stabbed with a dagger drenched in purple poison. He felt the strange bleakness coming from Lulia; he thought something happened to the Black Willow. Instead, he came across the Treant as it was dying.

He thinks about keeping the omen to himself, but the couple will found out soon. The death of a Treant will be the most talked-up about news since the Great Realm Fire. He tells the happy couple about the death of the peculiar Treant. The Treant was engulfed in magical, maroon-colored fire; nothing is left of it except for cinders. He tells them the exact time when the Treant died and the death happens to coincide with Helia's first cry in the world. Immediately, the couple becomes consume with worry.

They examine their child for any physical or magical defects that the doctor and nurses could've missed. Their son, like almost all healthy babies, looks like a wrinkled cherry with patches of black hair on his head. He does not cry or swat them away with his little balled fists; he watches them mutely with his cobalt-blue eyes as his parents poke and prod him.

They find nothing. Then, they begin to worry about their child's future. Perhaps, he isn't going to end up a great hero like his grandfather. Perhaps, he is going to end up a failure in all the things he sets out to do. Perhaps, he is going to die tragically young. Their son begins to whimper at the shared, solemn tension between the adults, so his father goes to touch his cheek in hopes of soothing him. However, their son grasps one of his father's fingers and breaks it like a dove's neck.

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It has been almost eight years since the death of the peculiar Treant. Helia's birthday, and by extension his young life, has been marred by the Treant's death.

When he was a baby, he broke his father's finger. His father cried and had to get his finger put in a cast, while Helia withdrew into himself. At first, his parents believed that it was just a bad form of baby magic that gave him super-strength and it would go away. However, as the months passed, Helia kept on breaking whatever was enclosed in his hands like dolls, crayons, or even bottles. His parents were afraid of being touched by his hands because they didn't want to end up with broken necks like the dolls.

They tried all sorts of herbal remedies and charms in hopes of containing his fearsome strength, but they never lasted long. Fortunately, his grandfather was finally able to come up with a solution thanks to help from Hagen and his blacksmiths who made him magical gloves from magic-suppressing chains and dragon leather.

His gloves prickle him like tightening scar tissue. He knows it is because the dragon, from which the gloves were made from, resents having its life stolen just to suppress a child's destruction. Every year for his birthday, his grandfather would bring him a new pair of gloves.

This year he would obtain his eighth pair of gloves. Right now, the other six line up on his windowsill like the tea leaves in the kitchen. Every year on the night before his birthday, he would wonder how many pairs it will take to make the entire dragon. Every year after pondering that same question, he would cry himself to sleep without fail. Years ago, his grandfather assured him that the gloves were made from a wicked dragon that terrorized a Realm for centuries.

He didn't feel assured at all. He knows that some dragons are evil and cause nothing but destruction like in a lot of stories, but the magical universe was created by a dragon. Also, he believes that nothing is born monstrous. The dragon, like a lot of storybook monsters, must've been abandoned or abused by other similarly abused and abandoned monsters; it's cyclical. Besides, how can something so wicked have such beautiful, deep-maroon scales that shine in the moonlight like polished silver?

This year he would obtain another pair of gloves made from the beautiful, wicked dragon. He wishes that his grandfather didn't have to bring those gloves. He wishes that his parents would let him, for once, not wear the gloves. He wishes his father would stop hiding his hands behind his back when they are in the same room together. He wishes his mother would stop calling him "my little Treant" in a tragic sigh like she does every year on his birthday. He wishes that he was never born.

He's sick of seeing his grandfather with the same gift every year. He's sick of knowing that his parents can never fully love him. He's sick of wearing these accursed gloves like a prisoner sick of wearing manacles. He's sick of being treated like a monster because of his ill-timed birth. He's sick of it all!

Outside his window, he gazes at the land laid before him. It is nighttime and the indigo skies have colored the ancient forest in dark shades; the lighthearted green is replaced with pitiless emeralds. He does not see the animals roaming about, but he can hear the hoots, howls, and whispers of the nocturnal predators. _The sound free to be who they are. I want to be free._

And for once in his young life, he sneaks out of his room and runs away into the forest where monsters roam at night.

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He has been to the forest before but only on the well-trodden paths and with a guardian. Now, he's alone, wandering off the paths. Through the bramble, through the ferns, through the slapping vines, Helia keeps moving, sometimes running, sometimes walking, but always moving. Further and further, he drives himself away from his home. He doesn't know how much time has passed, but he feels like the stars, the darkness should be gone now.

And yet, he is not bothered by this frozen time; he gleams and simpers like a little demon. Perhaps, his grandfather placed a curse, a fail-safe, on these gloves; time-magic, a spell to freeze time until Helia returned home. His cherubic face twists wildly; he refuses to return home. Linphea can remain trapped in this night forever for all he cares. He's free.

He finally comes across a glade with a swift rill. The rill has pink and white petals twirling on the surface of the indigo water; Helia dips his gloved hands in the water, letting out a moan of pleasure when the prickling sensation lessens. He dips his head down and drinks from the rill; his dark eyes flutter shut and he drinks with peace filling his young heart.

Time moves gradually, while Helia is busy getting his fill of serenity. It is only when he hears a soft whinny that he opens his eyes again. Upstream, he sees a unicorn. The unicorn is walking _on top_ of the water; its blacken hooves trot upon the water like it was sand. He can see it glowing white like a perfect moon; its horn is spiraled and golden like a spire from Solaria.

 _It's coming towards me._ He realizes immediately and he freezes; his head is still bowing towards the water like a humble servant, but his eyes are focused on the unicorn like a bold knight. His mother once told him that unicorns are the purest beings in the magical universe; and if you touch the horn of one, then it will grant you a wish. But only if it let you. _And if you kill a unicorn, then you become the wickedest creature of all._

 _I can wish my strength away…but why would a unicorn come to me? I'm not a virgin maiden or a fair princess. I'm just a boy…with monstrous strength!_ But the unicorn keeps coming towards him, and all Helia can do is watch with awe and horror. The unicorn genuflects its head to him, presenting him its golden horn.

 _It wants my touch._ Helia pulls off his gloves and tosses them behind him. He will not need them anymore. His hands are paler than the rest of his body. His small, white hands gently grasp the golden horn. _I wish—_

 ** _CRACK!_**

His eyes widen and his mouth opens in utter horror. In his small hands is the broken horn of the unicorn. The unicorn falls into the water; its white body is being covered with the pink and white petals like snow.

It is dead.

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 **Author's Comments:** Okay, time to get the links out of the way:

The rill, or "small" stream, in which Helia finds: a href=" . "Link/a

The unicorn that Helia comes across and accidently kills: a href=" . /-rGASPTtO0T4/T2908KV4DwI/AAAAAAAADkw/tKX0coqQM_ "Link/a

The song which re-invigorated my interest in this story. However, most of the credit is due to avatar142 on Archive of Our Own whose comment on "Time to Die" story reminded me of my cache of unfinished one-shots devoted to Helia and Riven…I probably should've done a Riven one, but I have another Helia one in the work. And hopefully after that, I'll get to another Helia and Riven one: a href=" watch?v=9ZU3ULZdYaY"Link/a

On to the story, this one is short and that's on purpose. I didn't want to drag out longer than necessary, but it's been a couple of months since I last touched it. To be honest, I gave up on _Winx Club_ after watching season seven. Was I expecting something amazing out of the season? No, but I wanted something that didn't pander exclusively to young kids. I had hopes for the new season solely because the Trix weren't in it and the villains reminded me of a certain pair of Digimon villains from _Digimon Adventure 02_. It did introduce some neat things like time-travelling with magical stones and expanding on Faragonda's past and past headmistresses of Alfea….but all that was poorly executed to me and felt like just one giant toy commercial ad that just wouldn't end. But it was still better than season five, in my opinion. And Roxy was in it….still not acknowledged as a FULL Winx member by whoever runs the show, but she's in it and gets some cute outfits. And once again loses her possible new magical transformation to an idiot. But I like this idiot more than the ditzy fairy godmother.

The aforementioned rant/tangent does relate to the story in this sense: how much I love to not follow canon and make up my own story. Because let's face it, there is no way in hell any of my Winx stories would ever be canon and I'm more than happy with that. The show has become crap for me, so I would rather be happy to write something intelligent and what I wish I could see from the show than work with its canon anymore. But there's not much canon regarding Helia and Riven….and most of the Specialists, minus Sky. But I feel like Helia and Riven might have the most interesting backstory out of the Specialists. The comics somewhat back up my belief in regards to Helia, but Riven…there's nothing concrete for him. Maybe that's why I feel like the need to intertwine Riven and Helia together…..in madness. Because let's face it, these two are going to go mad together in this series, and I'm more than happy with that.


End file.
